The hand that gripped his didn’t feel normal, in fact since when was it ever normal for someone to grab your hand as you delivered their mail?
Jeremy tugged and braced his one free hand against the door as he pulled with all his strength to free his hand from the grip of the cold clammy hands on the other side and finally he wrested his hand free, sprawling backwards to the ground as he did so.
What is going on here? Must be some kind of joke …
Lying there looking up at the door, his mail bag on the floor beside him, contents spilling out , he felt the beginnings of anger welling up inside him. Someone was obviously fooling around with him. That must be it.
At least that’s what he thought until the banging started. It sounded like hands furiously slapping at the door, desperate to get through to him and … hurt him. He picked himself up and quickly gathered his scattered mail before exiting the front garden. Joke or not, he was spooked. It was too early in the morning for such cruel antics and he would be reporting this to his boss back at the Royal Mail Depot.
Still shaking slightly, he made his way up the dark street to number 27, his next stop. The streets were still and nothing stirred in the frigid darkness as he quickened his pace, looking over his shoulder as he did so.
At number 27 things got even worse. Stepping through the little gate he saw that the front door was open and inside the house, the darkness was almost impenetrable. He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and placing a single letter on the mat within the house.
As he turned to leave, he heard a grunt from within the darkness of the hallway which caused him to stop and he stood waiting, unsure if he had imagined it. All at once, a frenzied shuffling began accompanied by an ululating moan that had his hairs on end and Jeremy stood transfixed as out of the darkness the stumbling figure of a man made right for him.
Terror stricken, he was frozen to the spot as the man fell upon him, moaning even more urgently now that he had Jeremy in his grasp. Jeremy, still confused and very afraid looked up into the face of a madman.
The man’s hands found Jeremy’s throat and squeezed until blood welled under the nails and Jeremy fought back, finally, pushing the man’s face up and away from his.
He screamed out in pain as the man bit into his fingers savagely and gargled on the blood that sprayed forth, drenching both of them and Jeremy attempted one finalpush but the stranger was too heavy and besides, more of the stumbling, moaning figures were around his stricken form now, dropping to their knees around him and leaning in.
As multiple sets of teeth sunk into his flesh, chewing and tearing, one word flashed into Jeremy’s panicked mind – Zombies…
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Copyright. Richard J. O'Neill. Powered by Blogger.
- Hey there! I was born a writer, with enough passion to write a thousand books in my lifetime. Zombies are, and always have been, a favorite idea/concept of mine, and I intend to show that through this blog. I also offer ghostwriting services too, for anyone seeking a writer for their books, short stories, or articles. Please, enjoy!